


Lost Night

by kinglestroodle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Lestrade, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Shipping, Shootings, barely any mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:58:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8281796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinglestroodle/pseuds/kinglestroodle
Summary: Mycroft and Lestrade go to a play and things don't go as planned.





	

Hi! Okay so I got the idea to write this song from the song “Stole the Show” by Kygo. It has that kind of loss to it and I kinda used that loss as my inspiration.

 

Greg felt himself zoning out as he looked around, a ringing in his ears as he looked at the ruin all around him. People screamed as they stood in the street, some injured, others bleeding to death as the paramedics struggled to assist everyone. People rushed to assist others, as others tried to find the ones they loved. Greg felt sick, the sudden urge to vomit becoming stronger by minute. He felt someone touch his shoulder, he turned, surprised and saw Sally looking at him and saying something, he tried to make sense of it, but he was too numb to understand. He swallowed as she turned away from him and rushed over to help someone. 

Greg closed his eyes, his stomach was doing flips. The sad part was he was in the building when it happened, the shootings. Gunshots rung out, soon people were starting to flood the exits. Greg had stayed still, looking around frantically trying to find a certain person who got stuck in the midst of the crowd. Greg put Sally on the phone, yelling over the crowd, telling her of what was happening. He did his best to help in his state of shock, he had trained for these type of things and to be ready to jump into action when they did happen, but that didn’t help the utter shock that came with the disaster. 

Greg opened his eyes as everything started to clear, the screams became louder and the cries were suffocating. He took a deep breath and lifted his head, noticing the wetness on his cheeks and wiped his face. He sprung into action as he walked around to help as many people as possible. People still flooded out of the building as the gunshots continued. This had to end. Greg grabbed his gun from his pocket and walked the opposite way of the crowd who was rushing to get out and into the streets, into what they thought was safety. He heard Sally scream behind him and felt someone roughly grab his shoulder.  
She turned him around,”Greg, you can’t go in there alone, it’s dangerous in there and you will get hurt,” She said to him.  
Greg scowled and snapped,”watch me, Sally.”

He turned and entered the building as the last couple people exited, he looked around at the abandoned room, the place looked wrecked. Papers littered the floors, the pamphlets showed a photo of a famous play on the front of each one, showing the night’s events that were canceled in an awful and sick way. Greg tightened his grip on his beloved pistol and quickened his pace as he entered further into the building. His footsteps echoed loudly in the halls, making a shrilling noise. Greg sucked in a deep breath at the sound. He continued down the hall slowly.

 

A noise echoed down the hall, Greg tensed up the sound, tightening his grip and going after the sound. He turned the corner with his gun raised, pointing directly in front of him. What he saw was not what he expected. There was a woman with a child standing there, she jerked to look at him and looked at the pistol in his hands, before grabbing the small child and pulling him behind her. Greg’s eyes widened and quickly put down his gun and putting it in pocket.  
“No, no, no, don’t worry, I’m here to help, I’m Detective Inspector Lestrade,” Greg said quickly and put his gun on the ground before starting to approach. The woman took a urgent step back, looking as if she was about to bolt.  
“I want to see ID,” she is suddenly,” prove it to me.”

Greg took his wallet out of his back pocket, making sure to to keep a close eye on the women, he took his ID out of his wallet and reached out to give it to her. She hesitantly took it and looked it over, before reaching over and giving it to him.  
“Turn the corner and go down the hall, you will find the exit, now take the kid and go, this is the hands of Scotland Yard now,” Greg informed her, she did as she was told going past him to the exit. He sighed and grabbed his gun from the ground, before continuing.

Greg walked the halls for about another hour, but found nobody. The only place he hadn’t checked was the auditorium, which he was reluctant to check, for the fact that was where the gunshots began. Greg walked down the hall that lead to the auditorium, stopping in front of the closed door and leaning against it. The reason Greg had come in wasn’t to find the killer, and he knew that. Greg still couldn’t find Mycroft, he had lost him in the crowd of rushing people and Greg feared the worst. He didn’t want to go in there for the fear to find a bullet hole through Mycroft’s head. He felt his eyes well up with tears at the thought. He quickly wiped them with his sleeve and sucked in a sharp breath before continuing and opening the door.

It was dark, darker than he would have thought it would be. The pungent smell of blood covered his senses and he felt sickness overwhelmed him. He felt dizzy and covered his mouth and nose, trying to block out the smell. He struggle, reaching into his pockets, trying to grab for his flashlight. He finally managed to pull it out of his pocket, and pointed it in front of him. Bodies littered the floor, blood seeped out of the bullet wounds in the victim’s bodies.

Greg closed his eyes and breathed out before making his way in between the dead, making sure not to make contact with any of them. He could feel the blood squishing under his boots, soaking the souls. He pointed the flashlight around, looking for the sight of the person he was looking for. Greg prayed he wouldn’t find Mycroft, at least not here, dead. 

 

Bang! Greg jolted at the sudden sound for the fact it was way to close. He stumbled back as he jolted, his foot catching on the arm of one of the dead. He tripped and fell back, landing harshly, his flashlight getting knocked out of his hand. He groaned in pain, before going to sit up. The back of his head was wet. He put his hand up to the nape of his neck to find blood on his hand, blood that was not his. He gagged, disgusted. He stood up and bent down to pick up the flashlight, it was out. He banged it against his hand a couple times to get it to light up again before pointing towards where the gunshot rang out.

Of course there was nothing but that told Greg he ought to head in that direction. He had a duty to this city and Scotland Yard, He couldn’t worry about Mycroft right now when there were about a hundred people in danger and injured. He tried to put the worry for him away but he was finding it difficult as he started heading in that direction.

He walked down the aisles of the auditorium, between the seats. The railings in the middle of the aisles had blood spatters and stains, a grim way to showing the events of the night. He stopped right up to the stage and sighed before jumping up onto it with a grunt.

Another bang sounded.

Greg’s lifted his head quickly, in shock at how close the shot had sounded. He looked around to see that behind the curtain on the stage was a closing door, lights shining into the darkness. The shooter had been in the room the whole time.

Greg sprang into action, jumping up and started sprinting toward the door. He hit the frame of the door and looked outside into the hallway. Footsteps echoed as the a man, the shooter, sprinted down the hall. Greg grabbed his gun out of his pocket and started moving.

He ran after the shooter, turning corners and through doors, a stereotypical chase. The man was faster than Greg by a long shot, but he managed to keep up. Greg’s lungs burned and his legs begged for rest, to stop, but he wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t let himself rest knowing that this man had killed so many people tonight, that this man might have killed the person he cares about most. The thought had given him motivation, just enough to keep him going. 

Before Greg was aware of what was happening, the man turned to look at him. He was pointing a shotgun at Greg, sweat rolling down his face as he grinded his teeth together. Greg skidded to a stop before gripping his pistol.  
“Oh look at you,” the man said, a smirk on his lips.

 

Greg was breathing hard, trying to catch his breath. He felt energized and exhausted at the same time. The blood pumped through his veins, the thrill, the thrill of the chase had this effect on him. He had his pistol pointed at the ground as he looked at the man in front of him.  
The man had bloodshot eyes and stubble on his chin, with black eyes that were filled with insanity. What Greg did not expect was that the man was fairly young, about 25 years old.  
“Look at you. Let me guess, friend? You’re here to stop me?” The man teased, a yellow smile on his face,” here to be the hero? I’m sorry to break this to you, Inspector, but heroes don’t exist.”  
Greg was angry at the man, but he knew he was supposed to follow certain procedures.  
“Sir, I must ask you to put the gun down,” Greg said firmly.  
The man laughed loudly, the cackle echoing in the hallway. He laughed for a while, making Greg even more angry.  
“Sir! I have asked you to put your gun down, that is an order,” He said with the smallest amount of anger in his voice.  
The man smirked at him. ”What happened to the procedure, Inspector? Finally kicked the script?” The man laughed and made a small kicking motion.  
Greg started to raise his pistol slowly, as the man was a bit distracted. The man looked back at him, noticing his action, raised his shotgun to be level with his eyes. His finger was on the trigger, the gun pointed at Greg.  
“What do you think you’re doing? Trying to shoot me, officer? I saw that,” he said, a small amount of anger slipping into his voice,” I could shoot you dead, right here, right now. I have the power in this situation, Inspector! Not you!”  
Greg stopped and lowered his gun again. He finally started to grasp how truly dangerous the situation was. Greg tried to think of the things he could do at the moment, he could run, but he refused. Greg inhaled deeply and looked at the shooter with a calm expression.  
“Sir, i’m going to have to ask you to put the gun down and get on your knees, or I will have to use force,” he said calmly.  
The man looked at him with a crazed look in his black eyes, and Greg knew that he wouldn’t stop. He would have to use force and he knew it.  
Before the man had the chance to say another word, Greg pointed the gun at him and pulled the trigger.  
Bang!  
He watched as the man crumpled to the ground, a hole in his chest right where the man’s heart was. Greg walked over to him and looked at him, he was a young man, probably in his twenties like Greg had inferred. He had bags under his eyes, looking as if he had had no sleep in a while. Greg leaned down and kneeled next to the body and checked the man’s pockets. He pulled out his wallet and opened it, finding an ID.

He looked at it, at the happy face of the man when he was younger. Steven Graves the card read, so that was what the man’s name was, Steven. Greg stood up just as the police started to flood in, taking over the situation. He directed them and told them what to do, that the shooter was dead, but to still search the building. After directing them, he left Sally in charge, before walking away.  
He walked away and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach from the realization that he couldn’t protect Mycroft. He wasn’t here. He was dead and Greg knew it. I mean, Greg had walked right past his lover’s corpse in the auditorium, but had refused to believe it. He had been right, Mycroft was gone. 

Greg stopped as his vision had started to blur. Tears welled up in his eyes and he fell to his knee as the news started to sink in. He had made himself forget, forget he saw Mycroft dead for his sanity. He had needed to stay focused, he had forced it out of his mind, but it was all flooding back. Quiet tears turned into sobs as he covered his face in his hands. He was gone, Mycroft was gone. He kneeled there for a long time, sobbing, utterly devastated. Greg had honestly loved Mycroft, and now he was gone.

Greg jolted awake, gasping and sputtering. He clutched at the blanket, squeezing the fabric between his cold hands. He covered his face in his hands. He looked to his left slowly and felt all the worry leave his body. Greg smiled tiredly, Mycroft was just fine. Greg took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, which was wet from sweat. He laid back, his head falling on the pillow and closed his eyes.

They were just fine

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fanfiction on here. I hope it turned out alright, I put a lot of thought into. I hope you liked it!


End file.
